That’s what the man on the side of the road with drums at mile 12.5 sang as I ran past him on Saturday morning. The word “ran” in that sentence has a very loose definition, he was sitting at the top of a large hill and I was more… not even jogging, it was a bit more like shuffling by the time I got to him. But I was pleased.
I’ve been training for a half marathon, a 13 mile run, all summer and for those of you who know me, you know that’s a HUGE stretch. I hate running. But, even so, I really wanted to say I’d run a half marathon (I wasn’t foolish enough to think I could tackle the whole). I’d tried training before, but it never worked and then in May I felt like God said, “Now’s the time.” When my friend Rhonda asked if I’d run with her, I agreed.
When I was in DC at the Unplugged conference I was introduced to the phrase “Fall in love with the climb”. The phrase means to love the journey, the fun and the pain and the mess that comes with it. The phrase was so brilliant to me that I wanted to do something physical to represent it. I was already in training for the half marathon and it just seemed to click in. All summer I’ve been trying to love the journey of training for the half marathon. And surprisingly, I have for the most part. When I started I could barely run a mile (seriously, it was bad) and then at the end 3 or 4 miles was no problem.
Through the process I’ve learned things about myself, one of the most important being that I can handle more than what I think I can handle. I’ve learned things about God, like the fact that He is faithful and when we enter into a plan with Him, He will see us through and help us to the very end. I’ve learned things about topography, like there is no place in the world that is as flat as Plover and that if you’re used to running in Plover, running anywhere else seems like a mountain range.
So, what’s the next big challenge? I’m not quite sure yet, but I think it might have something to do with music. Quite possibly leading worship from the guitar. Ooo, that’s scary.